


On the threshold

by TheSmellOfSunscreen



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSmellOfSunscreen/pseuds/TheSmellOfSunscreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock returns to 221 Baker street. Almost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the threshold

**Author's Note:**

> First fic, please forgive this humble slug for any errors, grammar bombs, or plain bad writing.
> 
> These characters do not belong to me, etc etc etc

Three years.

He used the time wisely, making sure that every last thread of the spiders web had been snipped. But mostly, he waited. He waited until he could come home again.

And now, his waiting was over.

The taxi dropped him at the end of the block. He wanted to savor it, walking up to the black door with brass numbers, taking it all in. How the street had changed in the three years he had been away. And how much it had stayed exactly as he remembered it.

As he walked towards the address, he noticed a young woman coming down the block, also heading towards 221 Baker St. She was closer than he and hopped up the front step with such familiarity that he felt a brief burn of jealousy. She was just putting her key in the door when he stepped up behind her.

She turned with her hand on the knob “Can I help you with something?” She asked, quirking a blond eyebrow.

His mind raced as he took her appearance in;  
Late twenties. Blond hair, natural. Clothes, inexpensive but well maintained. Messenger bag, well used, good quality. Ink on her hands, bit of paint under the fingernails. A new tenant or regular guest .

He decided to go for slightly flustered and unsure,“ah yes, hello, I was wondering, do you live here?” People tended to respond positively to someone sounding unsure and possibly in need of assistance.

“Yes,” she answered hesitantly. “Is there something I can do for you?”

She was cautious, he noticed her hand tightening on the doorknob. “Yes, ah,does Mrs. Hudson still live here? Still own the house?” he asked, pulling his eyebrows together, trying to look hopeful and harmless. He knew full well that Mrs. Hudson was still in residence. “I used to rent from her you see, was in the area and thought I’d pop round to pay her a visit. She was a lovely landlady, and I haven’t seen her in quite a while.” 

The young woman's expression changed immediately, a smile blossoming across her face, her features relaxing. “Yes, Mrs. Hudson's still here, such a lovely woman,” she said, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder. “She had a doctors appointment this afternoon. How long ago did you live here?” Her smile was dimmed by a brief look of concern. “I only ask because there's been some...” she paused and took a breath, “Difficulty, concerning her last renters. I don’t like to see her bothered.”

Difficulty? Did John move out? Was John difficult? Mycroft should have taken care of it.

He mirrored his face to match her concern, “Oh ages ago, when I was in uni, no worry.” He smiled, “I can’t imagine anyone giving trouble to Mrs. Hudson, she’s much tougher than she looks. Well, at least, she used to be,” he added with a wry smile.

The young womans face relaxed, apparently he had passed whatever test she was giving him. “Yeah, she’s still pretty tough. It wasn't the tenants, well, tenant, that was trouble for her” She said. “It was the press. Always hounding her and the good doctor whenever they came out the front door.”

Ah. So that was it. “Oh how terrible. Are you, ah, renting the upstairs now then?” He felt a quick twinge in his stomach, sorry for the trouble he caused for John and Mrs. Hudson, and anxious to see if she was living upstairs. Or if John still was. Or if they might be. Together. Damn Mycroft for not telling him.

“No, no, I’m in the basement, don’t need near that much space. And besides, Doctor Watson is still renting the upstairs.”

The knot that had been tying itself in his stomach disappeared. He shifted at the bottom of the steps, restraining himself from pushing past her and opening the door. He wanted nothing more than to bound up the stairs just out of his reach.

“Seems like a lonely fellow,” she continued, ignorant to his internal struggle. “In the time I’ve been renting he hasn’t been able to find a flatmate for that second bedroom. He and Mrs.Hudson are always chatting over tea together. They get on well. Oh listen to me, rambling on! She ought to be back soon. Mrs. Hudson. Would you like to come in and wait for her?” She motioned to the door. “Mr...? Never caught your name...”

“Smith. James Smith,sorry” He held out his hand to shake hers. “And you are?”

The young woman shifted her keys to her other hand and shook with a grip that was firm and sure. She turned and fitted her key in the lock, “I’m Mary. Mary Morstan.”


End file.
